


What Would Bergy Do?

by blindbatalex



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor whump, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: Here is Matt's problem:  he has woken up feeling like shit, the worst time to come down with the flu is the first day of your first vacation as a couple,and,Charlie is very excited about their all day hike.Here is Charlie's problem:  he is over the moon that he and Matt finally got together, and he was very excited to spend the day out on the coast trails with him, but for some reason he won't tell Charlie, his boyfriend seems to have lost all interest in him.
Relationships: Matt Grzelcyk/Charlie McAvoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	What Would Bergy Do?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewonderzebra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewonderzebra/gifts).



> Amanda!! If I had my life a little more put together I would have finished this two whole weeks ago. But I love you, and silly as it is, here is a lil gift (alongside my apologies for the delay!)

Matt’s head is pounding when he wakes up. Not yet fully awake but already unhappy, he turns in bed and finds his joints achy all over too, and his stomach queasy.

Normally, this would all be fine. While most of the world would disagree, height of summer is the best time to come down with something for NHL players – there is no team practice, there are no games, and so he would have all the time to rest and recover as slowly as he pleases.

Except.

Charlie stirs next to him, and with quickness you would not expect from someone who was asleep ten seconds ago, pulls himself up on his elbows. He leans down and plants a soft kiss on Matt’s lips. 

“Man, I can’t believe this,” he says with a smile wide as the blue sky. Even his bedhead, locks of hair falling in every which direction, seems to be glowing with happiness.

You see, today is the first day of his and Charlie’s very first vacation as a couple.

After much pining and quite a few misunderstandings, they got together two days before the end of the regular season, and the playoffs are the playoffs—they leave little room for anything else except hockey, least of all, romance. And then when it was over, they were bruised and battered and heartbroken, _and_ Charlie’s sisters couldn’t wait for him to come home. As a result, this—this week they planned in Italy, it’s what they have both been looking forward to for the past few weeks. Finally, a time where they can be together, just the two of them, where they can make up for lost time. 

He grins at Charlie and surges forward to catch a kiss of his own, not wanting to break the magic of the moment with something as mundane as a headache.

“You better start believin’ baby, because this is real as it gets,” he says. It may be cheesy, and he might be feeling like he has been hit by a truck while he was asleep, but neither makes it less true.

*

“What do you do when you are trying to decide between two options?” Matt asks him at breakfast, regarding over the rim of his porcelain cup.

He is gorgeous, even if a little tired—in the morning light with his chestnut hair and the light stubble crowning his jaw, almost a god against the Mediterranean gleaming in the distance. His almost god. His boyfriend. 

Ever since they got on the plane, it’s been a struggle to stop grinning to himself like an idiot at every waking moment. It’s just—he has wanted this for so long, dreamt about it for so long, it feels too good to be true. It feels like a miracle, all of his own.

“Charlie.”

Charlie does his best to focus and to wipe the stupid grin off his face.

“I usually think ‘what would Bergy do’—is yet to lead me astray.”

Matt nods, somewhat more gravely than perhaps fits the occasion.

“Have a decision you gotta make?” Charlie asks casually, ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest. Decisions he can see Matt contemplating-

“Just thinking of which to buy among two suits I can’t decide between.”

Charlie exhales.

“In that case, it’s easy,” he tells his boyfriend, another grin already blossoming on his face, “you buy both.”

He takes a sip of his tea and babbles at Matt about all the highlights of the hike they planned for today, the views he can’t wait to see again, and this time with the man he loves right beside him.

*

There is only one thing Bergy would do in this situation, and he is glad he asked Charlie, because it is absolutely the right thing to do.

He is a _man_ , he loves Charlie, and he is not ruining their romantic plans because he has a headache. No, sir.

This nothing he can’t power through with some Advil—taken while Charlie is in the bathroom—and willpower. He has played playoff hockey with much worse.

*

Charlie has walked this trail when he was sixteen. They’d come here with his family and nobody else wanted to go on the hike with him, when they could swim and sunbathe, and so he went alone. When he reached the viewpoint he’d sat on the bench, let his eyes drift across the expanse of the tranquil sea and wondered—if he would ever find anyone to lead here by hand. If he would be allowed, given what he wanted to do and given who he was into.

And when Matt suggested they come here for vacation all on his own—he isn’t ashamed to admit he teared up. Although explaining it to Matt and to get him to stop worrying took some effort, it felt like a sign from the heavens.

They are holding hands today as they walk, as he imagined they would be. They are together, they are talking. On paper, it is everything he dreamt of and more. On paper, it is heaven.

Except.

“You think Patriots can win the Super Bowl again?” Charlie asks and for a good ten seconds the only answer he gets is the birds singing in the trees, the distant crash of the waves against the rocky shore. 

When he squeezes Matt’s hand and calls his name, Matt turns to him. There is this- _look_ in his eyes, as if he is extremely bored and replying to Charlie is yet another inconvenience he has to deal with. Charlie recoils at it on instinct, before he can school his expression into something neutral. In all the years he has known Matt—even when he was a freshman and making horrible rookie mistakes on and off the ice—Matt has never looked at him like this.

“Sorry,” Matt says. Charlie can tell—he too is trying to keep his face neutral. “I agree, yeah.”

“Is there something on your mind?”

Charlie tries not to nag, to keep his insecurities from getting in the way. But there _is_ something on Matt’s mind. He thinks back to the morning—maybe it is too good to be true. Matt, with his decision to make.

Matt smiles. He looks tired—defeated—the way he did after the Stanley Cup Game 7 loss.

“I’m hiking on the Italian coast with the man I love. What could be on my mind?”

_Something you are not telling me._

*

Matt has, like everyone else on the team, heard stories of that infamous Game 6, when Patrice played through a punctured lung. He kind of wants to get him on the phone and ask him how he did it. 

The hills they are climbing are winding, his head is pounding, he wants to throw up, and even when they are in the shade he feels like he is baking under the sun. That is, of course, when he isn’t feeling like he is about to die from hypothermia.

He sinks into the bench when they get to the view point and only gets up when Charlie insists the view is much better from the edge. Charlie is—he has grown quieter as the hike went on and is on tiptoe now, no doubt because Matt is doing such a terrible job of being put together.

He puts his arm around Charlie’s shoulders and rests his head on his shoulder.

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now,” he tells him, meaning every word of it, letting his eyes get lost in the infinite blues of the sea. 

“Me neither,” Charlie replies quietly and Matt ignores the ringing in his ears with renewed vehemence.

*

Even Zee, whom Charlie narrowly avoided calling dad on multiple occasions--Zee, his captain, his mentor, and a damn wise guy, told him it would be far from easy.

They were on the road and sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed, the words had tumbled out of him, one after the other. His feelings for Matt, this helplessness, this longing he felt for years and it was as if they had welded into his chest. After years of silence, he'd told Zee everything.

What Charlie didn't know of course was that Matt also had a conversation with Zee on the topic of What to Do If You Have Feelings for a Teammate, and when he was done, Charlie got a good clap on his back and Zee's blessing. But even then- Zee had furrowed his brow and said 'you must know at the outset that this will likely be the hardest thing you do.'

“Harder than playoff hockey?” There were tears in Charlie's eyes.

Zee chuckled.

“Yeah, but worth it too.”

Zee isn’t wrong a whole lot but even he isn’t infallible, Charlie thinks as he kicks at a small rock on his path. Matt is quiet next to him, eyes fixed on the dirt trail--he hasn't said a single word in the last five minutes. He looks as if he can’t wait to get out of here and perhaps he can’t.

Charlie thinks back to when he walked this trail for the first time, all those years ago. He knew back then that he would never get to share it.

*

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

The words come to him with a delay and distorted, like sound heard through water. Charlie is sitting across from him but he may as well be a hundred miles away. He may as well be on the moon. Everyone in the restaurant seems to be shouting and the music is a fire alarm blaring in his head. He shuts his eyes--only a little longer than a blink--to center himself. When he opens them he notices Charlie’s hand on top of his on the table, though he quickly draws it away.

“Because I was thinking,” Charlie continues, from the moon. “If you changed your mind, right? That would be okay.”

Changed his mind-? About what?

Charlie is frowning. He looks distraught.

“...go back to being friends, no hard feelings. That’s okay.”

What? No. Fuck. This is on him. He opens his mouth to say ‘no way-’ unless...is that what Charlie wants? It's hard to keep his thoughts together. And before he can say anything, he makes the mistake of looking at the mussels at the next table and his stomach lurches.

*

Whatever he was expecting to come out of this conversation Matt abruptly standing up is not it. Charlie’s heart squeezes in his chest. Surely, the Matt he knows--even if he changed his mind about them dating, he would talk to Charlie? It can’t end like-- _this_.

His mind whizzes over the entire past 24 hours to see if it’s something he did, something he said as Matt pushes his chair back and steps away with a strangled ‘gonna be right back.’

Neither of them get very far. Matt takes approximately 1.5 steps before his knees give way. Charlie leaps to his feet but it’s not soon enough to catch him before he collapses onto the floor in a heap and hits his head on the corner of a table on his way down.

*

Charlie is his world. A sentiment he has felt many times, hasn’t told Charlie enough times (yet) and now true in a literal sense too. His face--with the hair falling into his eyes and the pink lips and the cheeks--is the only thing he can see, taking up his field of vision like a chubby sun.

His lips are moving and Matt can hear sounds--there are so many sounds--but cannot make out words. Matt reaches out a hand to touch it, to touch him--something has him very, very concerned. Another hand catches his and presses it to Charlie’s cheek. Matt smiles even as he lets his eyes drift shut. He has always loved how soft they feel to the touch.

*

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?!”

Charlie is going to murder him. Fever, dehydration, a rapid and weak pulse, and to add to all that, a mild concussion from where he hit his head--some of the scariest moments of Charlie’s life while he knelt by Matt’s side on the floor as they waited for help to arrive, thinking that Matt might be dying, with nothing he can do except to hold Matt’s hand and tell him he is going to be okay--and why? Because Matt decided to go on a hike while he had the flu and not say anything.

Matt looks at him sheepishly from the hospital bed. 

“I’m sorry.”

There is a bandage that loops around his forehead, an IV line in his arm, and wires for the leads to a monitor that sneak under his gown. He looks and sounds lucid, but still tired, with his eyes almost drooping.

The sight knocks the wind--the anger--out of Charlie’s lungs _and_ makes him want to grab the nearest knife all at once. He takes in a deep breath and pulls up a chair--small, like every other hospital chair he sat in--to the bed. Matt extends his hand and Charlie takes it, clasping it in between his own.

“Yeah? I’m sorry too.”

Matt plays with his fingers. Charlie sighs.

“How can we be this stupid?” 

It’s a genuine question--one usually posed to their group by Bruce, Zee, or Bergy (sometimes all three at once) every time they do something less than wise even by their own low standards, usually masterminded by Jake, Anders, or Pasta. 

All day he thought Matt’s silence and discomfort was _about him,_ when he should have noticed something was off. He has known Matt for years and Matt doesn’t always flush or sweat when he is running a temperature. He should have known. Except, he never thought Matt would go on a six hour hike if he was that sick. Didn’t think any person in their right mind would do it.

Matt chuckles weakly and shakes his head.

“You were so excited about today--I was so excited about today--I didn’t want a headache and some muscle soreness to ruin it.”

Ruin it? RUIN IT?

How dare Matt think Charlie would rather have him hiking through a fever? He can feel anger bubbling in his chest again, his nostrils flaring--that is, until he sees Matt’s heart rate pick up on the monitor and forces himself to breathe. He never did have the best poker face.

“Dude, I’d rather you be well even if it meant cancelling this vacation and every other one we planned after it. You ought to know that.”

Matt gives him an apologetic smile.

“I know. I just figured I could power through it and it would be fine.”

Charlie is going to tell him that is a terrible idea when something clicks. _Didn’t think any person in their right mind would do it._ Except one person. One person they both know.

“Tell me this isn’t what you were asking about in the morning? When you asked me what I do when I need to make a decision?”

When he told Matt he just thinks about what Bergy would do and then does that. 

And if he needed any more confirmation, Matt looks even more sheepish now if that was possible.

Fuck.

He is going to fly over to Boston tonight and murder Bergy for leading an entire generation of young hockey players astray as to the acceptable ways of treating your own body, the wrath of the city of Boston and probably the entire NHL be damned.

“I’m going to murder him.”

Matt laughs.

“Do you think that’s a little too extreme, maybe?”

It isn’t. It is as reasonable an idea as they come. He will use a skate blade.

Charlie groans. Deep breaths now because he doesn’t need to stress out Matt any more with his temper, however well justified that temper might be. 

And then, there is the flip side to all this--the part he played.

“Then again, it’s not like I did a better job either--thought your mood was, you know, about us,” he admits. “That maybe you, I don’t know, changed your mind or something.” He stares at his shoes. “I should have trusted you.”

“Hey.”

Matt tips his chin up with a couple gentle fingers. When Charlie looks up, he smiles--his reassuring smile that befits a captain.

“Okay, two things. For one I love you. I loved you yesterday and I love you today and it would take a lot before I changed my mind about us. Also, new rule: from now on we talk to each other. Deal?”

Charlie laughs, feeling some of his anger ebb once again, like the tide. That sounds like a great plan to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading friends! Comments are what give me motivation and energy to write more when the going gets tough, so if you enjoyed this story please drop me a word below--even if it is a single line, it means a whole lot to me. 
> 
> Also please feel free to come say hi to me @blindbatalex on tumblr if you wanna! I always welcome prompts, comments, and general asks over there.


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